


So Damn Beautiful

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CJ's not the most graceful woman in the world and an ice-skating accident proves it. Toby and Danny react to CJ's injury in very different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Damn Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to me in a number of ways:   
> 1) It was inspired by my time hopping around on crutches after an ankle injury, feeling like the most inelegant and ungraceful person on the face of the planet.  
> 2) In the behind-the-scenes guide “Inside the West Wing,” there was a discussion of CJ’s tendency toward physical clumsiness and the many times that her clumsiness was exhibited on the show. My intent here was to paint a picture of a woman who feels less than comfortable being so prominently featured as the face of the White House, especially when she feels she doesn’t have the perfect amount of grace and poise for the job.
> 
> PS-- I had no clue that Allison Janney actually trained as a figure skater until after I wrote this!

"Make me beautiful … the perfect soul, the perfect mind, the perfect face … a perfect lie." -Nip/Tuck theme

"What do you see in me? Are you quite proud of this make-believe curtain that hangs around everything you can admire in that girl? She's so damn beautiful." -Polaroid, "So Damn Beautiful."

***

There was no such thing as a dull day at the White House; Toby Ziegler knew that better than anyone. Because there was always a political issue causing uproar and upheaval, he had developed an intense hatred of anything else that threatened to do the same.  The slightest hint of gossip or drama was enough to set his teeth on edge—office politics were bad enough with adding interpersonal ones to the mix. So when he heard Donna positively shriek CJ’s name on Monday morning, he cringed and began mentally working his way down a litany of curses, wondering what the hell was going to disrupt his day so early.

“Oh my god, CJ, what happened?” Donna trumpeted at a volume more ear-splitting than usual.

“I broke my ankle,” was the exasperated reply.

An injured CJ was enough to get him out of his chair and out the door. In the bullpen he was greeted by an obviously flustered CJ, who was balanced awkwardly on a pair of crutches, a black surgical boot strapped around her left ankle. The left side of her face was bruised, her cheekbone bearing the brunt of the livid plum discoloration.

“What HAPPENED?” Donna repeated, jumping up to get a chair. “The last time we talked you had a date, not a bout with Wrestlemania!”

“This is from the date,” CJ said with chagrin. “We went ice skating…and I fell.”

This was such a typical CJ event that Toby couldn’t hold back a laugh, even though he could think of at least six immediate problems caused by an injured press secretary who obviously couldn’t be seen in front of the camera. Both women turned toward the sound of his guffaw and he had to bite back another gale of laughter as CJ knocked herself off balance when she swiveled and had to make a quick grab for Donna’s desk.

“You think this is funny?” CJ demanded, trying to lean the cumbersome crutches against a filing cabinet and lower herself into the chair. “Seriously? Thanks, Toby.”

“It’s not funny that you’re hurt. It’s causing me too many headaches to be funny.”

“So you’re laughing at me why?”  

“Because you went _ice skating_.” He placed enough emphasis on the words to make it clear what a ludicrous idea he considered that to be.

“Why is that funny?” Donna snapped, jumping to her friend’s defense.

“CJ can barely _walk_ without tripping over her own feet on a good day. Ice skating is a little beyond her skill level.”

He had been trying for jocularity with the comment but based on the wounded look on CJ’s face, it had apparently come across as insulting instead.

“You know, I’m in enough pain to want to rip your head off your neck for being a colossal jack-ass,” CJ snarled, shoving at the offending crutches in frustration.

Josh picked that moment to walk in to the bullpen and add his two cents. “Who’s a colossal jack-ass? And the answer better not be me.” He stopped short when he saw CJ. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I broke my ankle.”

“Nice job there, Flamingo. Did you fall down the stairs again?”

“No,” CJ replied through gritted teeth. “I was ice skating.”

“Why the hell would YOU ice skate?” Josh chuckled. “You’re not exactly known for your swan-like gracefulness. Hey!” he yelped as Donna swatted him with a briefing book.

“Thank you, jack-ass number 2,” CJ replied, blushing fiercely. “I was on a date with a guy who plays hockey. He wanted to know if I’d go skating with him, so I said yes.”

“Can you skate?” Josh asked practically, leaning away from Donna and the briefing book.

“I’ve been. You know, once. And I can learn … sort of.” She brushed her hair away from her face but shook it back into place when she apparently realized it only called attention to her injured cheek. “I was doing okay until he went off to skate on his own. And then I fell.”

“Clearly,” Josh replied, his lips quirking in an effort not to laugh.

“Josh, you know what you can do?” CJ started angrily.

“Tell Leo we’re going to need a ramp in the Press Room, gimpy,” Josh chuckled. He disappeared down the hall in the direction of Leo’s office, laughing to himself.

Donna sighed and looked at CJ sympathetically. “He’s got the emotional maturity of a rutabaga,” she said. “I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Oh Jesus, I didn’t even think about how I’m going to get up those steps to the podium!” CJ fretted. “I nearly killed myself trying to get into the building.”

She rose shakily, upsetting her crutches again. Toby caught them before they fell over and held them until she was on her feet. CJ grabbed them from him without a word and headed down the hall toward the Press Room, Toby trailing in her wake.

“So, I see how you broke your ankle. What happened to your cheek?” he asked.

“Why? So you can laugh at me again?” CJ asked shortly.

“I didn’t—“

“You did too. And you insulted me. You said I was clumsy.”

“I never said clumsy. I said—“

“’ _Can barely walk without tripping over her feet on a good day_.’ I have an eidetic memory, Toby. That’s why I’m good at my job.” She shoved at the door with the tip of her crutch until Toby reached over to push it open. “Thanks for being a jerk about something so embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing, it’s just … you. You fell. Big deal. You’ve fallen before and probably will again!”

“Not on a date I haven’t,” CJ spat. “And to add insult to injury, he said he doesn’t want to see me again. So I--”

“CJ, what happened!?”

CJ’s look of gratitude at Danny Concannon’s concerned question was enough to make Toby re-evaluate his earlier response, especially when he noted how much tension went out of her body when the red-haired reporter rushed to her side.

“I broke my ankle ice skating.”

“Damn, that sounds painful!” He caught sight of her cheek and his eyes widened. “You must have taken one hell of a fall. I’ve taken some spills but never bad enough to break something.”

“I didn’t know you skated,” she said, her tone softening.

“Hell, yeah! I love it! I’m a huge Capitals fan.” He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know _you_ skated.”

“I don’t really. Just had dreams of being Michelle Kwon.” Toby noticed she tactfully left out the mention of having sustained her injury while on a date. CJ and Danny’s mutual crush was no secret to him, nor was CJ’s rather flimsy excuse of not being able to date someone who worked for her. He wondered idly if CJ was actually secretly pleased her date with the hockey player hadn’t gone well.  

“Well, even rolling an ankle can end a player’s season, so I don’t imagine you’ll be skating again anytime soon.”

“Or walking for that matter.” CJ rolled her eyes. “I’m crutch bound for at least two weeks. I don’t know how I’m going to get up these stairs.”

She rested her crutches on the bottom step before trying to hop her way up. She wavered, off balance, and started to pitch backward. Danny caught her firmly around the waist.

“Whoa, there, that’s not the way you want to go about it,” he admonished gently. “Besides, you’re not steady enough on those yet to try stairs. Maybe we should see about putting in a ramp.”

“Josh joked about it—joked being the operative word.” She shot Toby a sour look. “Toby made fun of me, too.”

“Well, Toby makes fun of everyone.” Danny cast Toby a quick smile.

“I wasn’t--” Toby sighed, fed up with CJ’s oversensitive feelings. “Look, I’ll go see about the ramp, okay?”

He headed out of the room with the nagging sensation that he hadn’t handled the situation well but at a loss for what he could have done differently. He turned back, thinking to apologize, but stopped when he caught sight of Danny helping CJ into a seat, his fingers tangled with hers, her face turned up to his with warmth and trust.

Toby knew then with certainty that he’d said and done all the wrong things.

***

They built her a ramp. It wasn’t hard, not when Abby Bartlett had been so recently in a wheelchair herself for a broken ankle. The maintenance staff was almost ridiculously kind and accommodating about it, making her feel even more humiliated that so much fuss was being made over her clumsiness.

She quickly became aware that everything was harder on crutches. Maneuvering the very crowded, very slick hallways was an exercise in skill, even when people went out of their way to move aside for her. She had to ask Sam twice to slow his pace to hers, and the fact that she couldn’t move very quickly using the cumbersome metal sticks was deeply frustrating, especially for someone who was used to taking one stride for every other person’s two.  Carol, Donna, and the other assistants fussed over her so much that it was almost embarrassing—by mid-afternoon she was cursing herself for having agreed to go on the ice skating date in the first place.

The one bright spot in what was otherwise a miserable and frustrating day was Danny. It wasn’t just because he intuitively knew how to treat her—with kindness and concern but without coddling; it was because she could let her guard down with him in a way she couldn’t with anyone else. Although Danny didn’t have a problem using their attraction for one another to his advantage when it suited him (just as she used it when it suited her), he had never once in all the years they’d worked together used her moments of insecurity, emotional upset, or frustration as currency against her. She knew he wouldn’t take advantage of the fact that she was aching, tired, and frustrated to throw her off her guard or press for leads or favors. The knowledge that she could so absolutely trust him when she was feeling so drained and vulnerable was the guide-rope that she clung to throughout the day.

On the opposite end of that guide-rope was Toby, her best friend, who had hurt her much more than she had expected with his remark about her lack of grace. They’d been friends long enough that he knew one of the things she was deeply self-conscious about was her tendency toward physical awkwardness, a trait that she found humiliating in the extreme in a job where she was expected to look flawlessly and effortlessly poised at all times. She was the face and voice of the White House for the world and she was constantly in the glare of the all-seeing camera lens, which caught every movement of her body, every expression on her face, and every gesture of her hands. It was a necessity that she scrutinize the playback of herself on camera to find every fault and flaw, every unschooled expression. It was agonizing and she hated it. Toby was the only one who knew how much it pained her to look at herself on camera and how often she cringed when she felt she’d done or said something particularly graceless.  Maybe she was being overly emotional in her response to what he had probably thought was a very funny remark but she had wanted better from him. She had _needed_ better from him.  

She avoided him for most of the day, ignoring him when he attempted to catch her eye in the Oval Office and when he peeked into her office after roaming the hallways.

He caught up with her in the late afternoon when she was in the briefing room, practicing taking the ramp to the podium and setting her crutches down.

“Is that ramp okay?” he asked quietly.

 “It’s fine,” she replied stiffly. “It blends in nicely. Maybe we can make it a permanent fixture in case there are other clumsy people who plan on giving briefings.”

“CJ,” Toby sighed. “I didn’t mean--”

“Yeah, you did. You always mean whatever comes out of your mouth, Toby. You don’t have a filter.”

She picked up her crutches, tucked them securely under her arms and started down the ramp, determined to look as dignified and sedate as possible… which would have worked if it weren’t for the loose bit of carpeting that snatched at the tip of her crutch and sent her stumbling.

She’d never seen Toby move so fast. He was immediately there to catch her, his whole body taking her weight as she tumbled into him. The momentum sent them both slamming back against the wall and for a long moment they could only stare at each other in startlement.

“You okay?” he finally asked, his hand rising to brush her hair out of her eyes.

“I think so. Thanks.” Her heart was thudding so hard and fast that she had to shut her eyes for a moment and simply lean into him. “Okay, you’re right. I’m really clumsy.”

Toby laughed and his breath stirred her hair. “It wasn’t your fault that time. It was the carpet.”

“The carpet on the ramp that had to be built because I’m so damn clumsy.”

“Hey.” He tipped her chin up and she opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her. “Stop calling yourself that.” He fitted a hand under her arm and helped her find her balance. “Come on, come sit down.”

“I’m okay.”

“I can see your pulse beating in your neck. Will you please sit down, you damn stubborn woman!”

She gave up on the crutches and leaned on him instead as he guided her to the front row of press chairs.

“You hit that wall pretty hard,” she finally said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m indestructible.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” She laughed self-consciously as he continued to watch her. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to, you know, hurt your feelings. Earlier. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“Well, that’s the way it came out.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry.” Toby sighed at her intractable expression. “You’re not making this easy.”

“It’s not exactly been the easiest day for me either so forgive me if I’m not ready to stop being mad at you for being a jerk.” She sighed and dropped her head back against the seat rest. “Jesus, look at this.” She waved a hand to encompass herself. “I find this all really embarrassing.”

“I don’t understand,” he replied. “Everyone has accidents and injuries, CJ. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Everyone else gets to hang out behind the scenes, Toby. I’m the one the country sees. Do you remember after Rosslyn when the morning shows commented that I looked shaken up?  That’s not the image you want the press secretary projecting. I was in a meeting with Hoynes the next day and one of the many things he commented on was how poorly that reflected on us.”

“What?” Toby stared in shock. “Hoynes gave you grief about that? He doesn’t have the right to give you grief about ANYTHING.”

“But he has a point. You don’t want your press secretary looking anything less than calm, composed, and impeccable--but here I am, obviously less than impeccable, nervous as hell about how I’m going to look to them when I do go back out there with my crutches and my bruise and there you were, shooting off your mouth and making it worse.”

She met his eyes and jerked her head at the cameras. “I love my job. I love working with the press. I love running my mouth in front of a room full of people. But I absolutely despise those cameras and you know why.”

“Claudia.” Toby laid a hand on the uninjured side of her face. “I’ve said this before. I meant it then and I mean it now … you are an incredibly beautiful woman. You have nothing to be self-conscious about.”

CJ laughed bitterly. “I’m a gangly, clumsy woman whose Secret Service code name is Flamingo.” She turned her face into his hand for a moment, felt the warmth of his palm and the press of his thumb against the line of her jaw. “I just don’t look at myself and think ‘beautiful.’”

“I do,” he said softly, his other hand coming up to stroke her hair back so he could see her face. 

They sat like that for several long, drawn-out moments, letting the words hang in the air, listening to each other’s breathing.

“You don’t have to go up there today,” Toby said abruptly, his hand falling from her cheek and coming to rest, conjoined with hers, on his knee. “I’ll come out and give the briefing myself.” He considered for a moment. “Head home early. No one will mind. You can get Danny to drive you.”

“You’d go out there and do the briefing for me?” CJ asked, amazed. “You hate dealing with the press.”

“I can deal with it for one evening,” he replied.

“But …”

“I’m the communications director, it’s my responsibility. If you’re incapacitated, briefings fall to me. I foisted it off on Josh last time—“

“Because you were working on the State of the Union!”

“—and he screwed it up, so I need to step up this time.”

CJ wavered. “No, Toby, I don’t want you to. Not to appease my vanity.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t why I’m doing it. I’m doing it because I treated you badly. Because you’re up there every day of the year and don’t complain.”

“They’ll make my absence a story.”

“It isn’t a story. And if they try to make it one, I’ll tell them so.” He squeezed her fingers. “Stay here. I’m telling Leo you’re heading home and I’ll find Danny to drive you.”

Toby left and CJ leaned back in the chair, drained. A soft knock on the upper press room door and footsteps following it made her sit up again, alert. It was Danny.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear. I came in to make a call.”

“I assume you heard that you get to be my chauffeur.”

“I did. It’s a pleasure and a privilege.” He came and sat next to her, giving her the smile that always made her feel warm inside. He touched her hand. “You okay? You look a little shaky.”

“The ramp tried to kill me,” she joked, pointing at the loose carpeting. “Good thing Toby was there to catch me.”

“That would certainly make me not want to use the damn thing for awhile. Or make me feel disinclined to do a briefing…” His tone made clear that she could step in and confide her feelings any time she felt like it.

CJ sighed and rolled her eyes. “Danny, how much did you hear?”

“Toby volunteering to take over the evening briefing … which the entire press corps will curse and spit at you for, by the way.” He squeezed her hand. “No one would mention it,” he said softly, serious. “We may be a flock of vultures looking for carrion but no one would be intentionally cruel enough to tease you about an injury. We’re not like Josh.”

CJ laughed. “Teasing I can handle. It isn’t that. I’m just feeling a little too self-conscious for cameras.” She gestured at her face.

“You could get the make-up room to cover it.”

She laughed. “Good thought, Danny, but no make-up will cover a bruise that shade of purple.”

“Well, since that shiner isn’t going to go away overnight, Ace, how long can we expect to battle Toby before you decide to grace us with your charm and beauty again?”

CJ sighed. “I’ll come to terms with it somehow … or get some really good concealer. I’m more anxious about my tendency to trip and fall flat on my face.” She gestured at the crutches that were still leaning against the wall and grimaced.

Danny gave her a wolfish smile. “I could carry m’lady up to the podium. It would make me look strong and manly. Not to mention that it would be dead sexy to carry you everywhere.”

“You’ve certainly got your flirt on,” she said, amused.

“I’m sorry, did you only just now notice?”

“I’ve been ignoring it and hoping it would go away.”

“Not gonna happen, baby. I will flirt with you anytime and anywhere, whether you are bruised and battered or not.”

That got a real smile to cross her face. “At the sound of the tone the time will be saucy o’clock.” At his laugh, she said, “You don’t usually push this hard with me.”

“I thought I’d be a cad and take advantage of you in your weakened state.” He winked at her and touched the back of her neck with a gentle hand. “Let me drive you home.”

It took some maneuvering but CJ finally managed to leave the press room and get to her office without injuring herself or anyone else. An amused Danny trailed in her wake and stopped in at Toby’s office while CJ gathered her things.

“Hey, I’m taking CJ home. You good?”

Toby looked up, vaguely surprised by the solicitous question. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You want me to put the word out the press isn’t permitted to tease, torment, or poke you?”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary.” He jerked his head in the direction of CJ’s office. “Is she okay?”

“She’s a little shaky … on a couple of levels.”

“Yeah.” Toby ushered Danny further in to the office. “Part of that’s my fault. I screwed up. I made her bad day even worse.”

Danny waited for Toby to continue.

 “I was a jerk. I said all the wrong things.”

“What did you say exactly?”

“I made a poorly timed joke about her tendency toward clumsiness. Apparently that isn’t a joke you want to make to someone who’s just broken her ankle and bruised her face.”

Danny winced. “Yeah, not the best idea.”

“I didn’t realize how self-conscious she is because she hides it so well.” At Danny’s look, he backpedaled. “Or possibly she doesn’t hide it well and I’m just an imperceptive jerk.”

“Well, you probably don’t spend as much time as I do watching CJ,” Danny said with a self-deprecating grin. He heard her rustling in the hall and said, “I’ll let you know when I get her settled at home. Enjoy keeping the wolves at bay.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Danny left her at the South Portico and drove his car around, then solicitously helped her climb in, arranging her shoulder bag and crutches on the back seat.

CJ heaved a profound sigh once they were out of the White House gates and headed down Pennsylvania Avenue. Her ankle was throbbing and the muscles in her arms that weren’t used to using crutches were making their complaints clearly known. At her heavy sigh, Danny glanced over.

“You okay?”

She opted not to lie. “I could really use some painkillers right now.”

“Do you have any or do we need to make a stop on a street corner to score some?”

CJ actually broke into laughter at that. “I have some at home. It’s nice to know, though, that you’d be willing to hunt down a dealer in search of Oxycotin.”

“Anything for you, baby,” Danny replied, half-joking, half-serious. He darted a glance at her at the stoplight. “I’m going to stay awhile and fix you some dinner.”

“That’s sweet, Danny, but you don’t have to--”

“I know I don’t have to. But I’m going to. You need to rest that ankle and you can’t do that hopping around doing chores. You’re going to sit on the couch with some ice packs and watch the news, because I know nothing’s going to stop you from doing at least that much work. You’re going to swallow those pain pills and when everything starts blurring nicely around the edges, you’re going to let me tuck you into bed with more ice packs.”

CJ was too tired and in too much pain to argue, so she simply nodded and dropped her head back against the headrest. And once he had helped her up the steps, in her front door, and back to her bedroom so she could change clothes, she was glad he had insisted. It was with extreme gratitude and relief that she stretched out on her overstuffed couch with one pillow behind her head and one under her ankle, a yellow legal pad and pen in her hand to make notes on the evening news.

She woke with a start to Danny touching her shoulder.

“Get some food in your stomach so you can take those pain pills, okay?” He waited until she was more awake and able to coordinate her movements before he brought over a tray and laid it across her lap.

“You need to eat, too,” she insisted, blinking fiercely to clear her vision.

“I am,” he assured her. “But I’m getting you settled first.” Only when she had started eating the chicken and vegetable stir fry that he’d whipped together did he bring her the bottle of pain pills, and then settle into the armchair with his own plate of food and a bottle of beer.

“This is really good,” CJ complimented, actually feeling hungry for the first time that day. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Single men cannot live on pizza alone, my dear.” He took a sip of beer and grinned at her. “Though based on the contents of your fridge, single women can.”

CJ blinked. “Wait, where DID all of this come from? I didn’t have anything in the kitchen.”

“I walked to the corner market while you were asleep.”

“How the hell long was I asleep?” She felt muzzy-headed and dense.

“An hour and a half.”

“An hour and--?” She shook her head. “I didn’t realize I was that tired.”

“Well, I imagine you didn’t get much rest last night.” He jerked his head at her ankle. “Broken bones are ridiculously painful.” He crossed to the kitchen and rummaged in a cabinet.

“I don’t suppose you’d bring me a beer?” CJ called, with no real hope that he’d actually do it.

“Not with you on Oxycontin,” he replied. “You’d be out like a light again and I still want the pleasure of your company.” He came back in with her wok to ladle second portions on both their plates. “And I know you want to see Toby’s briefing, which means you need to be conscious for another few hours.”

CJ gave him a smile that was half amusement and half exasperation. “You are really damn bossy, Danny Concannon.”

“Some women like that,” he replied cheerfully. “You like that.”

“That’s news to me.”

“You like it.” He brought her a glass of iced tea and set it on the tray in front of her. “We’ve got some time till the last briefing of the night. Do you feel like a movie?” He looked at her collection of DVDs which easily numbered in the hundreds, remnants of her days working in Hollywood and hob-knobbing with studio heads who, above all other things, liked to give their own movies as gifts.

 “Sure.” She gave him a smirk. “Let’s see how well you know me … pick my favorite.”

“Easy,” he replied instantly, picking up a case without letting her see it and placing it in the player.

“You didn’t even think about it! How do you know you’re right?

“I’m right,” he replied confidently, settling down in the armchair.  “I’m always right.”

“And modest, too,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

When the titles for “North by Northwest” came on the screen, she couldn’t hide her grin. He was right; it WAS her favorite. Danny gave her a wink.

“You think I don’t know you? Cary Grant makes you weak in the knees … I heard you say it to Carol. Ready?”

“Play it, Sam,” she replied.  

 “Danny,” he replied with a wink. “Sam’s back at the White House.”

“Pain in the ass,” she shot back, grinning.

“You love me.”

“You wish I did.”

“I know you do.” He reached for her hand, brushed a kiss across the back of it, and twined his fingers with hers.

Halfway into the movie, CJ asked, “Danny?”

“Yes, dear?”

“If we were to go skating after I get my cast off … you wouldn’t let go of my hand, would you?”

“Not a chance.”

“And if I fell …”

“I’d fall down with you.”

“And if I broke my nose or busted my lip or bruised my cheek …”

“You’d still be beautiful.”

She felt tears swimming in her eyes and quickly blinked them away.

“Were those the right answers?” Danny asked, eyes twinkling.

“They’re the best ones I’ve heard all day,” CJ replied.

 

END  


End file.
